


isn't that a perfectly simple sky

by opaldawn



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Depression, Developing Friendships, Gen, Girls' Night, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opaldawn/pseuds/opaldawn
Summary: "There," she declares, putting the finishing touches (for the third time- it ain't her fault that he keeps moving around and smudging it!) on his thumbnail."Thanks, Rita," he says. He's gone mostly quiet, kinda subdued, like he always gets after a big fight or a good cry. An empty carton of green tea hibiscus ice cream's sitting on the little card table in front of him, a half-drunk bottle of Gatorade that she'd forced upon him next to it.He wouldn't wanna say it, he never wants to say anything like it, but she can tell he's doing a little better.(Juno has a bad day. Rita does what she can to help.)
Relationships: Rita & Juno Steel
Comments: 25
Kudos: 71





	isn't that a perfectly simple sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oretlumiere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oretlumiere/gifts).



> req fill for ali oretlumiere; fic prompts are still open- message me on my twitter @vesbud or down in the comments here!
> 
> content warnings for canon-typical discussion of depression and death, and mentions of alcohol use/abuse, but nothing too explicit
> 
> as always, comments and kudos mean the world to me!! please if you read and enjoyed this let me knowwwww

Rita's not the best at perceptive-izing things about other people, not in the streams or in real life. But she's known Mistah Steel for five whole years, now, and so the moment that he walks into the office, bags under his eyes standing out like he's one of the zombies in Night of the Vampire Zombies Part 2, wearing what she's pretty sure are the same clothes that he came to work in yesterday, she can tell that he's not doing too good.

"Hey, boss," she says, pitching her voice a little quieter than usual. If he's sick, she doesn't wanna give him a headache, and if he's just in a bad mood, well, call her selfish, but she doesn't wanna be yelled at. 

"Mm," he grunts, not looking at her as he makes his way to his office. He's staring at the ground, walking all shuffly, like he's got lead in his boots and with each step he's having to fight against some giant magnets. (She makes a mental note to look up whether lead is magnetic.)

He retreats into his office without another word, slamming the door behind him. Rita stares at the closed door for a second, then remembers that sometimes he likes to be left alone and he hasn't fired her, anyways, and so maybe he's just having a case of the Thursdays.

She turns away from the door and goes to get the coffee machine started. 

When she goes to bring him his coffee, she finds something that scares her more than she likes. He's locked his door. 

It's not that she's scared of Mistah Steel, not at all! He might act tough, but he's her best friend in the whole world except for Franny but that's different between them anyways, and she knows he'd never hurt a fly, even the world's most annoying fly. 

She's worried for him, though. He never locks the door to his office, not usually— Rita hardly even knew that the lock still worked. It's nothing he's ever mentioned, probably nothing but habit, but it makes her heartbeat speed up a little bit and her palms get a little sweaty.

Because what if something real bad's happening in there? What if some goon climbed through the window and locked the door so they could get to her boss before she could step in? What if she's done something wrong, something she doesn't even know about, and Mistah Steel's mad at her now? What if— she remembers how he looked this morning— what if he's passed out drunk in there, or something?

She prepares herself for the worst and sets the coffee down on the filing cabinet, knocking on the door once. "Mistah Steel?"

Nothing from inside. 

"Boss, I brought you your coffee, but you gotta let me in if you want it."

Quiet, still. She thinks back to how he looked this morning, remembers all the times that he's tried to shut the world out. 

"Mistah Steel, you don't gotta have coffee or anything, and you don't even gotta let me in, but please tell me if you're okay."

"I'm fine, Rita," he calls back from inside. She'd leave him alone, but something about the way he says it, all flat and toneless, and there's a huskiness to his voice like he's been crying…

"Okay, boss," she takes a step back from the door, "but are you sure?"

He doesn't reply, but she hears slow, shuffling footsteps, and then the door slides open. And there's the boss, still in one piece, not even smelling that much like the cheap whiskey he always drinks. 

"God." He sniffles a little bit. "Is it that obvious?"

"Mistah Steel, you know I'm a real polite gal and everything, and I ain't ever saying anything to try and make you feel bad, but, uh…" she taps her foot. He's hunched over a little, still wearing his coat and hat, eyeliner smudged down his face and tear-tracks obvious. His hand is shaking. Rita wishes she knew what to say. 

"Listen," he cuts her off. "I'll be fine. I, uh, I might not be all that productive today, or anything, but I'll be _fine._ Just tell anyone who comes in with a case that I'm busy, and you can watch your streams all day. I'll do some paperwork and—"

"Oh, boss, nuh-uh," Rita shakes her head. "If you're tellin' _me_ that I can go watchin' my streams on company time, there's gotta be somethin' going on."

Mistah Steel rolls his eyes. "Rita. It's _fine._ "

Well. Difficult times call for difficult measures, or however the saying goes. So she uses the one tool in her arsenal she knows the boss can't resist. 

She pulls him into a hug.

By the way that he kinda folds into it, leaning down so they're at least a little closer to eye level, letting out a long sigh, she knows it was the right decision. Score one for Rita. 

"Boss," she says quietly, or at least quietly by her own standards, "we could take a day off, if you want. Just come back to my place, and we can have a movie night or do each other's nails or— or you could just be sad and not productive _with_ me. You don't gotta do this on your own."

Mistah Steel opens his mouth, then closes it again, then opens it again like some kind'a koi fish from that one stream about Earth biology. 

"Rita," he finally says. "God, you just don't give up, huh. You're fired." 

She lets out a little squeal of excitement, then realizes that maybe now wasn't the best time. "Okay, boss," she tries to keep the relief out of her voice. Honestly, Mistah Steel needs to learn how to take care of himself better, but since that doesn't seem to be on the cards at the moment, Rita's always happy for a chance to help. "Should I go get my coat?"

"Just a minute," Juno says, that look he gets in his eyes like he's seeing into a whole nother dimension that Rita can't even understand. He lightly pushes her away, stepping out of the hug. "Just give me a minute, okay?" 

* * *

Rita's words play in his head as he takes another long swig from the bottle he'd hastily hidden behind a stack of folders, locks the office window, and shuffles some papers around in a pretense of tidying up. _You don't gotta do this on your own. You don't gotta do this on your own. You don't—_

Goddamn it. He brings his fist down hard against the sim-wood of the table, then winces as he feels a knuckle pop out of place a little. Why does Rita always do this? He appreciates it, sure, better than what he got up to before she became his support system slash caretaker, but it makes him upset in a way that hurts him to even think about.

He covers it up, sure, even to himself. Tells himself he likes being alone on a bad day, or that her voice gives him a headache, or that she pries too much. But the truth is… he doesn't like that she _stays._ With him, with Juno Steel, fucked-up, hard-boiled Private Eye. Who lashes out at her sometimes, slams desk drawers or yells or gives her the cold shoulder.

He knows what happens to people who stay. He doesn't want to think about anything like that happening to Rita. 

But as hard as he tries to dissuade her, to let her see that he's a bad investment to be making, she's stubborn. Stupid, brilliant, _stubborn_ Rita, willing to help her deadbeat boss through deadly cases and hangovers and… whatever this is, now.

Well. It had been a dream, was what it had been. Not a nightmare, for once, but the side effects of his mind processing one of the few good memories of Oldtown, of a lighter childhood and eating greasy bodega food and laughing in a back alley with _him._

The Galaxy's Best Smile had been gone from the galaxy again when he woke up, and goddamnit, he knows how to deal with nightmares, he's dealt with them for twenty-five years. Push it away, bury it under the rug, tell yourself _it's not real, you're not there anymore, you're not with her or him or them or there._ This sort of dream, the kinder sort, is harder to deal with, and on top of the fact that he'd already been slowly sliding downwards the past week, it had been enough to have him contemplating staying in bed the whole day.

Fuck. He runs a hand down his face, scratching against day-old stubble. He shouldn't leave. Shouldn't let something dumb like this distract him from his work. Hyperion City _needs_ him, needs him to subtract just a little from all the gunfights and robberies and shady dealings of the city. And he needs it too, needs some way to feel like he's doing something _good_ for once.

But. He'd promised Rita, and if he stayed in here for too much longer she'd probably break down the door. And it wasn't like he was getting much done anyway.

He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, sighs, and heads out of the office. 

* * *

Rita's trying so hard to be quiet on the short walk back to her apartment. She's not _good_ at it, being quiet never came natural to her, but she tries for Mistah Steel's sake. 'Cuz he still looks kinda sick, and kinda sad, and like he's one little poke away from disintegrating into a pile of gray dust, and then where would Rita be because gray dust can't pay its secretaries. 

Mistah Steel looks like he has something to say the whole time they're walking, and Rita wants to ask, but she doesn't. She trusts him to say what he has to say, even if she may be a little bit— or, well, a lot bit— worried about what that is. 

They make their way in, through the door and up a flight of stairs that Rita swears were designed to be just a little too tall for her legs, all in the sort of silence that makes her skin crawl. Once they're safely in Casa Rita, she steers Mistah Steel towards the sofa and sits down next to him. 

"So, boss," she begins. "You wanna talk about it? Or d'you wanna not talk about it and do something other than talking about it, or we could not talk about it and not do anything other—"

"I don't get it," Mistah Steel interrupts, not looking at her at all. He doesn't sound like he usually does when he says something like that. He sounds _upset,_ upset and guilty in a way that makes Rita real confused. 

"What don't you— sorry, Mistah Steel, was I talkin' too fast again? Well—" she puts a little more emphasis on every word this time— "we could sit here and you could talk about what's got you all upset, or—"

"Not that!" He pushes his fist so hard into the fabric of the poor sofa that a feather comes flying out. "I don't get— _this_ isn't in your contract, Rita! All the— you're my secretary, and a damn good one, too, but nobody said you have to be my _therapist_ or my _babysitter_ and I just don't get why you won't—" 

"Oh, boss," she puts a hand on his arm. He's breathing real heavy, and his eyes are a little wild-scared, and he looks like a spooked Martian starling about to hop up and fly right out the window. 

This isn't the first time he's worried about something like this, not hardly. Personally, Rita thinks it's a silly thing to worry about, especially 'cuz they've been over this more than a few times, but sometimes she and Mistah Steel don't see eye to eye on everything. It's like how no matter how many times she shows him how to restart the internet router, he just can't see it the same way she does. Good thing she doesn't mind explaining it to him again. 

"You're my friend, Mistah Steel," she tells him. "An' that means that I care about you. An' _that_ means that I don't like seeing you all upset, and I know sometimes it helps when we watch streams together and stuff. An' I know sometimes you think you're too much trouble for me, or that you don't deserve the same kinda love as anyone else, but that ain't right, boss. Ain't no trouble at all."

"But— Rita, god, but I— you do all this for me, and I never— I mean, I treat you so _bad,_ and I don't even tell you what's wrong with me most of the time—"

"You could be better sometimes," she says matter-of-factly, holding one hand palm-up in a half-shrug. "But so could I, boss. An' everyone, too. Just 'cuz sometimes you get grumpy doesn't mean you ain't my best friend. And you don't ever gotta tell me anything you don't want to, either."

He doesn't reply for a while, and Rita starts to think that maybe he's forgotten that they were talking, 'cuz he does that sometimes. Or maybe he's got some kind of sudden-onset laryngitis, or he said something too quiet for her to hear, or she got amnesia and forgot that he'd said something already-

and then he flops down so he's lying fully on the sofa, and buries his face in his hands, and Rita realizes that her boss is _crying._

She makes a quiet little distressed noise and wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him so he's kinda leaning half-onto her. He doesn't cry, much, not in front of anyone else at least, probably 'cuz he thinks it makes him look less tough or something. 

"Shh, boss, it's okay," she awkwardly soothes him. "It's okay. I gotcha." She's sort of mirroring what she remembers him saying to her, when she turns on the waterworks when she gets frustrated or worried or sees someone get all shot up with blaster fire. 

"It's gonna be all right, Mistah Steel. It's gonna be okay." 

* * *

The worst part is, he almost believes her. When she tells him that he's her best friend, when she tells him that he _deserves_ anything, when she tells him that _it's gonna be okay._ He wants to agree with her, wants to thank her and say that everything'll be okay for her, too. But he knows how that goes. 

He hates crying, he really does, and especially in front of anyone else. People, people who he doesn't have the brainspace to think about right now, have always called him an _ugly crier,_ and he knows it's true. 

But the image of Ben's smile is still seared into his neurons, and Rita's looking at him with a soft smile, too, buck-toothed and genuine and maybe a little pitying, a broken-mirror reflection of his memories. He doesn't know whether he'd rather be at home, free to spiral into the bottomless pit of dark thoughts that he's been walking the edge of since this morning, or here, sobbing on his secretary's sofa. 

He gasps for breath and Rita rubs his back, gently. It's not like he hasn't had friends before; everyone in Hyperion's lower crust knows him, pretty much, and a few even like him. But Rita's a special breed. It worries him, how much she always wants to _help,_ but in some marginally less jaded part of his brain that just wants to accept the comfort… it's nice. To have someone there. 

Eventually, without really any conscious choice, he stops crying. Lets out a long breath and blinks a couple times. 

"Hi, boss," Rita says. "You feelin' any better?"

"No," he replies on instinct, and then, "wait. Yeah. A little. I guess. Thanks, Rita."

"It helps a lot, don't it," she says, and Juno almost wonders whether she's talking to herself, but then she looks at him, waiting for a response.

He shrugs. "Sure. I mean. More than anything else that doesn't actively break down my body."

"That's the spirit!" She grins. "Now, boss, do you wanna talk about it?"

Part of him considers saying yes. Saying, _I miss him more when I think about him but I feel more guilty when I don't and it's tearing me apart._ Saying, _it's been six years and I'm still just as fucked up as I was the day after it happened._ Saying any number of things that might get some weight off his chest.

But he's not ready. Today's not the right day. He just. Can't.

"That's okay, Mistah Steel," she says, reaching up and stretching her arm up to pat his shoulder. "You wanna put on a stream or something?"

"Yeah." Juno puts his hand over hers. "That sounds nice."

* * *

They've dragged out a bajillion bottles of nail polish in different colors from her bathroom, and she's trying to paint Mistah Steel's right hand in a nice gold, but the polish is a little expired and it keeps going gooey everywhere. Her fingers have just got done drying— one in every color of the rainbow, one black, one white, and one glow-in-the-dark. 

She feels a little bad, taking advantage of one of Mistah Steel's bad days to rope him into marathoning _Bloody Laws Bloody Claws_ with her like she's always been begging him to do, but Episode 4 with the really stupid beekeeper-mask costume got a quiet little laugh out of him, so she can't be too guilty really, can she. 

"There," she declares, putting the finishing touches (for the third time— it ain't her fault that he keeps moving around and smudging it!) on his thumbnail. 

"Thanks, Rita," he says. He's gone mostly quiet, kinda subdued, like he always gets after a big fight or a good cry. An empty carton of green tea hibiscus ice cream's sitting on the little card table in front of him, a half-drunk bottle of Gatorade that she'd forced upon him next to it.

He wouldn't wanna say it, he never wants to say anything like it, but she can tell he's doing a little better. Hasn't tried to escape the movie marathon, hasn't even tried to sneak over to the kitchen to pilfer some of Rita's cherry brandy. 

Rita knows the show pretty much word-for-word at this point, so she fidgets with a little piece of wire that she found in the crack of the sofa (jackpot!), shaping it into a little dog and then a parrot and then a Large Hadron Collider and then a smiley face. 

She wishes the boss hadn't eaten all the ice cream. 

A few more episodes go by, mostly without interruption except when Rita explains the whole thing with the opera 'cuz that's _real_ confusing for anyone who isn't online the forums for the show a whole lot. She's starting to wonder whether Mistah Steel's gonna fall asleep on her couch— he's got that faraway look in his eyes, again— when he speaks.

"I think I'm gonna get another tattoo."

"Huh?" Rita wracks her brains for the events of the past episodes— has anyone mentioned anything about tattoos? She's usually the one who says stuff that doesn't mean much of anything.

"Sorry." He shakes his head a couple times. "Sorry. Got lost in thought, a little."

"It's okay, boss, I love gettin' lost in thought!" She waves her hands around just a little, then turns down the volume on the show. This is more important. 

He nods kinda halfheartedly, staring into space. "Sorry, I was— kinda thinking out loud."

"You don't gotta keep saying sorry, Mistah Steel, you know I do that too all the time." She hazards a guess. "Is that why you were all upset?"

"What? No," he shakes his head. "Well, I mean— I guess it's gotta do with that, a little bit. But not, uh, not really."

"What sorta tattoo?"

"I got a couple ideas," he says. His voice is doing that thing that Rita doesn't like so much, where there's another layer to the words, some kinda meaning that's hidden underneath them like the inside of a jelly donut. Unlike with the donuts, though, Rita's no good at digging to the center of the stuff that Mistah Steel says. 

"Ooh! Mistah Steel, if you want, I could draw one out for you!" she offers instead. "You know I love to doodle and all, boss, an', an', an', _oh_ Mistah _Steel_ I got the _perfect_ thing you just wait right here!" She cuts herself off with a squeal, hurrying into her room to dig through her box of art supplies.

When she returns, wielding a handful of gel pens, Mistah Steel's flicking through his comms. He looks up. "What'd you bring me?"

"Body art pens, Mistah Steel, I bought them so's Franny and I could get matching tattoos even though we're scared of needles and _ooh,_ Mistah Steel, can I try an' draw on you, _please please please_ I promise that I'll make it look nice and—" 

"Rita." Juno holds up a hand. "Breathe."

"I'm breathin', boss!" She does a few real loud breaths, just to show Mistah Steel that she's good at following his instructions and should absolutely be allowed to give him a temporary tattoo, thank you very much.

"I dunno about this." He eyes the pens. "That stuff wash off?"

"Easy as anything, Mistah Steel, the ink fades in a week or so on its own but they come with a special kinda soap stuff so you can wipe it right off if you don't like it!"

He sighs. "Fine."

"What??" Rita's shocked. The boss never lets her do stuff like this, nothing more than painting his nails sometimes. He didn't even listen to her suggestions on what color he should dye his hair last time!

"I said _fine._ If it washes off and all. No harm done, right." He chews on his bottom lip a little. "Listen, you want to try it, I wanna see how it would look, so why not."

"Oh, boss, _thankyouthankyouthankyou!"_ She launches herself at him in a hug. He oofs. "What do you want I should draw? Maybe… oh, I can draw cats real good, and frogs, too, and I can make my handwriting okay when I try, and…"

"I got something in mind. Let me find a picture of it." He turns on his comms.

"I can do it, boss, I know you ain't too good with tech and alla that!"

"No _way."_ He twists, turning the screen away from her, which, okay, rude, but she knows better than to try and see what he's up to. A few "huh"s and "whoa, what'd I just do"s later, he makes a little satisfied sound and turns the comms back towards her.

"Found it. You think you can draw something like that?"

She studies the design. Harder than a cat or a frog or even any sorta inspirational quote, but she figures she can give it a shot. "You know it, Mistah Steel!"

* * *

"And… done!" She lifts the pen. 

Juno examines the art on his arm. It's come out a little shakily-lined in places, but he's (once again) surprised at the many hidden skills of his secretary. 

The goddess Benzaiten spreads across his bicep in thin gold lines, hair flowing delicately out behind her. He runs the pad of his index finger up the neck of her mandolin.

"Thanks, Rita," he says softly. _Come on, Super-Steel, don't start crying again._ He uncaps the Gatorade and takes a sip. 

"It look good enough?" She stares up at him with those big puppy-dog eyes like usual, but Juno doesn't think he's ever heard her sound so… _tentative_ before. Usually she _knows_ that she's done something right, or she doesn't care about any criticism, or something. Now, though…

"It's… really pretty, actually." He lets out a long sigh.

"You sure, Mistah Steel? You look a little…"

"M'sure," he fakes a scowl. "What, just 'cuz I'm being nice to you means something's wrong?" 

She grins. "Well, boss, I wasn't gonna say it…"

"Really, Rita." He forces himself to meet her eyes. "Thanks. A lot. For, uh. All this stuff. And… for sticking around, I guess."

"Aw, Mistah Steel, I wouldn't have it any other way!" 

Maybe she's telling the truth, he thinks. Maybe this isn't something that's gonna be broken or fall apart under his touch, this new normal of movie marathons and gentle empathy and Thursday-afternoon peace. Or maybe it will, eventually, but why shouldn't he enjoy it while it lasts?

"If there's anything, you know. If you, uh. If you ever need something like this, or, or anything, you know you can give me a call, right?" He knows even as he says it that it's not a promise he can keep for sure. That he'll get blackout drunk and miss her call, or let all the anger boil over and take it out on her, again.

But. God. He looks at the half-empty nail polish bottles, the ice cream container, the tattoo on his arm. And he realizes he wants to _try._

**Author's Note:**

> once again LIKE AND COMMENT LIKE AND COMMENT LIKE AND COMMENT!! i'll love you forever if you do
> 
> title is from [never's altar by bryan scary](https://bryanscary.bandcamp.com/track/nevers-altar), an EXTREMELY juno song.
> 
> _I know it's true  
>  You're blue  
> And everything that's beautiful floats away  
> But that's not how the weatherman earns his pay  
> It's only temporary_


End file.
